The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key)

by Gillian Zane

  “Mother fudge packer!” Sierra was sure she had broken her jaw, but her exclamation was proof against that. She couldn’t have spoken if her jaw was broken. Her jaw throbbed with pain, she hadn't noticed the pile of pillows. She hadn't realized she was this deep in the room. She had been in a fog, but now her head was clear.

  “Ah, gülüm, are you injured?” The Sultan garbled something out in his spicy language and fell upon her on the floor, groping at her skirts and kissing her stomach. She felt his fingers yanking at her underwear and she hollered out a protest.

  He went straight for the kill, no flowers and candies from this one.

  “Uh, Sultan, what the hell…” She pushed at his head which was trying to burrow under her bodice but it only succeeded in pushing him between her legs in a very awkward position.

  “But, you are tempting my manhood very much.” He looked up from between her legs.

  “Ugh.” She slammed her legs closed and managed to knee him in the nose, which got his attention but didn’t manage to dislodge him.

  “Get off her,” a growl came from Sierra’s left and she turned in time to see Owen grabbing the Sultan and yanking him up and off of her.

  “Brute!” The Sultan looked at Owen liked he had just peed in his cereal.

  “Stop, guys!” She jumped to her feet and got between them, slapping her hands on their chests to put an end to the madness. Both men looked down at her hands where she touched them; both had heat welling in their eyes. She pulled her hands back quickly. “I think this is the lust spell again. Quit acting like idiots.” Sierra stepped back and straightened her costume, trying not to think about how her breasts had been totally out and about. Both men stopped grumping at each other and turned to face her with chastised looks on their faces.

  “If the lust spell is kicking in again, that means the Peri is still alive, right?” Owen asked worriedly.

  “Yes, the lust spell would be gone if the thing were dead, at least I think so. The Peri said it fed off of death and lust, any kind of strong emotion. This proves it’s still feeding. It might be trying to get more power, so it can return to being whole,” she said.

  “I do not see the issue with this, I like lust.” The Sultan stepped forward and pressed his lips to Sierra’s. He tasted of spice and wine and something very carnal. She didn’t push him away. She was distracted by the feel of his soft lips, which were almost feminine. With the contrast of his beard that scratched at her face, she was mesmerized by the feel of him. He took this as an invitation to explore further, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sparking an overwhelming urge in her to rip off her clothes and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do.

  But one name ripped through her brain.

  Owen.

  She pushed hard against the chest of the Sultan with a gasp and guiltily looked over the Sultan’s shoulder at Owen. He was standing there, hurt, but with an understanding look on his face. He knew what she was battling. He was probably feeling it himself.

  “That’s enough, err, Sultan. We can’t do this. I like lust too, but not with you.”

  “I do not know why we cannot enjoy the lust spell,” he argued, looking to Owen for support.

  “Well, for one, I don’t even know your name. I can’t call you the Sultan while…uh…”

  “Ali,” he said with a nod.

  “Yeah, well, look Ali, you’re nice and all, but I’m not interested. The only reason why I didn’t fight you more was because of the spell. I’m kinda sort of with Owen and we have a job to do and it doesn’t involve getting sweaty and naked.”

  “Kinda sort of?” Owen asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Don’t want to assume anything. We did only hookup because of the aforementioned lust spell,” she whispered to him.

  “The fact you used aforementioned in a sentence makes me want to turn kinda sorta into yes please.” His face lit up in a grin and she had the desperate urge to kiss him. She couldn’t though, she couldn’t be lost in it. And if she kissed him, they would be lost. Maybe just a small kiss. She stepped forward.

  “Yes, please," she grinned back. "And all it takes is words to get you all hot and bothered?”

  "Writer," he shrugged and leaned in.

  She felt the tug of the spell and wanted to move even closer and scream a few more yeses and pleases, but she shook her head. Sierra had to focus. “Gah! Focus, people.”

  “Geez, yeah, I’m sorry, Sultan, Ali, whatever. The Peri. Tell us about the Peri.”

  “I do not know about the Peri. He appeared. He killed everyone. He buried me. I would rather talk about sweaty and naked, like Mountain mentioned.”

  “Sierra,” she shot back. “And don’t you care about getting free? Do you want to be buried alive again and again?”

  “No, I do not want that,” the Sultan sighed.

  “Then what about this Peri? He said he had a right to rule this place, that he was given ownership from the Sultan, Abdul something or other…do you know anything about this?” Sierra asked.

  “Abduliziz,” he said with a shocked look on his face. “This means my younger brother sent the Peri to secure his rulership. That does make sense. He was always a ruthless…” He muttered a few unintelligible syllables that sound like corgi and octopus.

  “How does that make sense?” Owen urged him back on topic.

  “I ruled for ten years. A decade of political machinations and leading a ruthless empire of ruthless people. They all hate the Ottomans, all the people the rulers before me conquered. My ancestors ruled and took advantage and did very bad things to its people. I was made the Sultan after my parents were killed. I was only ten years of age, my younger brother was eight. He aligned himself with my father’s brother and tried to do many things to take rulership from me. After two attempts on my life and when the members of my family began to die, including my first wife, to save myself I fled here. To the New World, the New Orleans. I was a coward. But I was the coward that lived. I thought my brother would be at peace once he got what he desired. He must have thought I would return and want my rulership back, so he took care of the business. I didn't plan on returned ever, though.”

  “He probably was scared that you would come back,” Sierra concluded.

  “He turned into a very bad person, black soul,” the Sultan sighed, regret obvious by his defeated posture. “To do this, to send something of this blackness, a Peri, is very dangerous. He knew not what it could do. Peris cannot be controlled. They make you believe you are the master and then they turn upon you and destroy you.”

  “This one seems to be restricted to only this house. How could your brother have done this?” Sierra asked.

  “Would it be a spell? Or something like that? Something that holds it here? If we break the spell, would it release this thing? I wouldn’t want something like this being free to do whatever it wants,” Owen added.

  “Very smart you are.” The Sultan looked at Owen and Sierra and nodded. “It would not be a spell. It would be an object. The Peri, they cannot move around without this object. It is their prison.”

  “Okay, so if you suspect it was your brother who sent the Peri, did you receive a trinket from him, a present, anything like that?” Sierra asked.

  “I keep my new domicile secret from anyone but my trusted advisors. My brother did not know of my whereabouts. He could not send me a gift,” the Sultan said indignantly.

  “They had to find you somehow. It could have been anything, right? Did you receive anything as a gift, even if it was from someone local?” Owen asked.

  “Yes. I believe so. A young man. He was a very pretty one, I invite to many parties I host. He presented a token of his affection, said it would remind me of my homeland.”

  “That could be it. Where is it?” Sierra asked.

  The Sultan spun around, moving quickly through the room. He looked behind the drapes and even under a bench, until finally he held up an ornate vase.

  “This,” he said.

  “Now wha
t? Do we break it, or maybe cast a spell?” Sierra asked.

  “I do not know.” The Sultan looked desperately at Sierra.

  “These Peris, what are they? Maybe if you explain exactly what they are, we’ll get a better idea of how it can be stopped,” Owen urged the Sultan.

  “A Peri, to the Turks is what an American would call a fairy or spirit. But, no…no, wait that is not right. This is much darker. Much evil compared to the stories I have heard. I believe this is a spirit of the Jinn. Maybe that is why it is so powerful.”

  “Jinn, I don’t know much about them, only the old tales from my family, and what I have read in the Quran, which isn’t much. My family converted when they came to the US,” Sierra said thoughtfully. “I always thought of them as genies, like the cartoon.”

  “I know not what a cartoon is, but it must be terrible,” the Sultan shivered. “A jinni is terrible. My grandmother would whisper stories about them before I slept to give us nightmares.”

  “She sounds like a winner,” Owen said under his breath.

  “She wanted strong men in the family,” he shrugged. “The jinn are the opposite of the angels, made from smoke, and can be very evil if they choose to be. Men have tried to use the jinn and their magic but they are treacherous and dangerous. They often do what benefits themselves and it usually is selfish and in the pursuit of power. But they can be restricted, imprisoned in an object, forced to do the bidding of the man who controls them. If it is my brother he is long dead, but the jinni is still imprisoned here.”

  “Okay, which tells us a lot, but not how to kill them.” Owen looked at the vase in his hand as if he wanted to smash it on the ground. Sierra reached out a hand and touched his arm. He nodded, to let her know he wasn’t going to be a fool, and placed the vase on the mantel of a nearby fireplace.

  “Do you know how they are controlled? Maybe we can control it and force it back to wherever it came from,” Sierra mused.

  “To control it takes trainings in the arts of meditation and belief. To control a member of the jinn is to have it assist you, or grant you boons. If you err in the summoning, they destroy everything around you.”

  “So, it is like the folklore, they grant wishes, is this what your brother did? He wished for your destruction?”

  “The story is too complex for that, not how you describe it. More like a pact or a deal.” The Sultan shook his head at Sierra as if he couldn’t explain this.

  “You mean a genie in a lamp is what modern day people think of this thing? But it’s really more of a devil, making deals in exchange for something?” Owen asked mystified.

  “Yes, that sounds right,” Sierra said thoughtfully. “A deal with the devil. Rubbing a lamp and a genie popping out was a ridiculous interpretation of the old folklore.”

  “Is this your modern interpretation of the jinn?” the Sultan asked intrigued.

  “Yes, usually the genie is in an Arabian style lamp. You rub the lamp, the genie pops out and it grants you three wishes. You have to word your wish properly, though, or it can turn on you. It spawned the saying, be careful what you wish for,” Sierra explained.

  “Ridiculous interpretation as you call it,” the Sultan scoffed. “The rubbing of lamp would be forty and one days of meditation and fasting to fulfill requirements for summoning. And this wish, the destruction of my people, would be a negotiation between the jinni and human. A bargain. My brother would ask for my destruction, the jinni would state his terms and they would be immense.”

  “That makes sense. Your brother asked for him to destroy you and in return the jinni was granted rulership over your domain, which was basically only this house. Sounds like your brother made out like a bandit.” Sierra nodded her head, finally understanding the big picture.

  “Again, this doesn’t tell us how to kill it,” Owen piped up.

  “Can you remember anything from your grandmother’s stories?” Sierra asked the Sultan.

  “A tale, yes. More a song. I do not know how it would go in English.” He hummed a few notes under his breath.

  “The darkness of the smoke

  Penetrates the realm of below.

  When asked it forms for all to see.

  Watch of the deal that it makes

  Behind the smile of a snake.

  Your wish is granted, but not free.

  When your back is turned it strikes

  And your wish calls down upon thee.

  End it only when the Peri returns below.

  Sent home to the smoke by innocent hands

  That exist removed from the bargain.

  Break the tomb, but beware of the costs.”

  “That’s pretty specific,” Sierra said.

  “What does break the tomb mean?” Owen asked.

  “I believe that is the vessel the spirit is trapped within,” the Sultan responded.

  “And the innocent hands, that what…what was that about?” Sierra asked.

  The Sultan tapped his forehead thoughtfully and said, “Exist removed from the bargain.”

  “So an innocent person that wasn’t involved in the deal can take care of this thing. So, basically anyone that isn’t you or your brother, right?” Sierra asked.

  “Depends on what innocent means,” Owen sighed. “I never liked riddles.”

  “What could it mean? It isn’t a riddle, this is pretty straight forward,” Sierra scoffed.

  “Who knows, it could mean a virgin…does it mean a virgin?” Owen asked the Sultan, who spread his arms in a gesture that said he was clueless.

  “It can’t be a virgin. I was sent by that shopkeeper. She would know I wasn’t a virgin. If the rule was a virgin, she would’ve known. In fact, that nullifies any argument against me. If she sent me, it had to be me. Give me that vase.”

  Chapter 17

  “May I ask something first?” the Sultan asked slyly. “How would this keeper of the shop know you weren’t a virgin?”

  “I’m twenty-one,” Sierra said and rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, that is quite old,” the Sultan replied in all seriousness, which made Sierra frown.

  “In his day, Sierra, you would be married off and on your third kid,” Owen smiled to soften the blow. “Now you’re barely legal. Shit, you didn’t tell me you were only twenty-one.”

  “Does it matter how old I am? How old are you?” she fired back.

  “Twenty-eight. Shit, I feel like I’m robbing the cradle.” Owen ran a hand over his face.

  “Well, if you don’t want to rob this cradle, by all means.” She motioned for him to walk away.

  “Wait, I didn’t say that. A guy has to get used to some things.” he tugged on her until she fell back into his arms. He lifted her chin carefully and softly kissed her lips. He held himself in check so he wouldn’t fall into the spell. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.

  It was a sweet kiss. Filled with promise and hope. Hope that even though they had a very carnal start, they could set things on the right track and make a go of their unique experience. His tongue slipped past her lips and tangled with hers, giving as well as receiving until they were pressed up against each other. Her hands slipped into his hair and his were roaming all over her exposed skin.

  Owen tried to control things, but it was a battle he wanted to lose.

  “Please, may I join?” The Sultan tapped Owen on the shoulder, causing the couple to break apart and look at the foreign man guiltily.

  “No, man, sorry, I don’t share.” Owen put a protective arm around Sierra.

  “I am not interested in share. You can both be blessed with my knowledge of the art of seduction.” He waggled his eyebrows, not to be funny, but in all seriousness. Sierra broke into a guffaw and the Sultan crossed his arms in insult.

  “I am offended by your laughing. I am as serious as a shrew. The women of the harem trained me well.”

  “And I’m sure you’re excellent at that,” Sierra patted him on the shoulder, “But, maybe we should focus on the matter at hand. Getting rid of this Per
i. Where’s that vase?”

  “You are right, Mountain. You shall break the vase.”

  “Just break it, like that?” Owen looked skeptical. He didn’t want Sierra to take any chances. Maybe he should break the vase.

  “Yes. Do it,” the Sultan urged.

  “Alright, here goes.” Sierra went to the fireplace and grabbed the vase. She held it over her head and braced herself for a powerful throw.

  A cold rush of air blasted through the room.

  Chapter 18

  Sierra froze, the vase held above her head, ready to throw. She couldn’t move. The air thickened, and she felt something in the wind, granules of something like sand. It hit the room like a sandstorm. Tapestries were ripped off the walls, sofas were thrown into the air and crystal and china fell to the ground in a crash.

  Sierra’s body stung everywhere her skin was exposed. The sand hit her with a force that was painful. Owen grabbed for Sierra, his big body trying to shield her from the assault. But as he tried to protect her, the sand coalesced, ripping at her body, moving her. It was trying to take the vase away from her. It beat at her arms.

  Sierra held on with all her might. She couldn’t let go, if she did the Peri would have its vessel. It would hide it and they would never be free of this place. But the pain was getting to be too much. Scratches appeared on her arms, her skin burned.

  “Owen,” she pleaded, indicating with her head, the vase. “Do something.”

  He left her, alone, with only the attack of the wind. She held on mightily. Her eyes were tightly closed, unable to stay open because of the sand. She was in a whirlwind. The granules stormed around her in a twister of sand, raising her up and pitching her around the room.

  She screamed as something slammed into her hard.

  The crash of glass made her eyes pop open. Shards of glass rained down her arms and over her head. She felt the sting of cuts as it hit her cheeks and her arms. But she didn’t care. Owen had done it.